The Proverbial Can of Worms
by tarot-flair
Summary: Unapologetic crack. A collection of short stories. Cagalli has strange fantasies and Athrun is bested by fouryearolds.
1. Still Only Eighteen

**Disclaimer: **_Merely a work of fandom._

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**The Proverbial Can of Worms**

_By tarot-flair_

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**Still only Eighteen **

A gentle brush of lips; feather soft and tantalizing. An exchange of breath; reverent and electric. Then the slight pressure against her lips increased as he pressed his mouth over hers and stayed. He slanted his mouth persuasively across hers until her lips parted and he could touch his tongue to hers. The kiss exploded.

Cagalli wanted more and when he did not seem willing to provide it, she snaked an arm over his neck and pulled him closer, her fingers tangled in familiar, soft locks of hair. She parted her lips willingly, and he obliged, exploring her mouth hungrily with his tongue, lost in her scent and taste.

She could vaguely feel long, slender fingers coasting tenderly over her cheekbones, brushing back and forth on her neck. It sent shivers down her spine; shivers of the pleasant, wholly sinful kind. He pressed openmouthed kisses to her cheek, her ear, into her hair, leaving deliciously damp traces of his affection. His hand cupped the back of her head, as he trailed languid kisses down the curve of her neck before lingering at the spot where her neck met her shoulders. She could feel a vague stinging sensation and she instinctively arched her head, giving him more access to her neck.

Cagalli woke up with a start, her chest heaving from the sheer realism of her dream. It had felt so _real_. _He_ had felt so solid. Bracing her forearms against her knees, she tried to catch her breath and then she raised her head, instantly recoiling in a blend of embarrassment and surprise when she met a set of amused green eyes.

He smiled, -an infuriatingly smug smile. "Did you sleep well?"

She could feel the crimson heat rising into her cheeks and her mouth worked helplessly but it seemed as if her voice had temporarily abandoned her. Which could actually be a blessing in disguise or she might have blurted out the strange fantasy she had been having of him. And then she would have to fire him.

"Well, you have an appointment with Chairman Durandal in thirty minutes." He consulted his watch and directed yet another smug grin (she couldn't figure out _why_ he was so unusually arrogant today) at her.

Then, there was no time for embarrassment as she leapt from the bed and made a beeline for the dressing room.

Struggling into the exasperating dress she had brought along with her for the important meeting with the Chairman, she paused and moved closer to the full-length mirror in her walk-in closet. Angling her head to the right, she stared incredulously at the mirror. At the vivid scarlet mark on the side of her neck.

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**Author's Note: **My version of why Cagalli brought along a dress and yet ended up in the Representative outfit for the meeting with Durandal in the first episode. The very useful /cough/ high collar of the Representative blouse… Yeah, I know I ought to update "A New Dawn" but the last scene just refuses to be written… if you cross your fingers it might be up tomorrow. My apologies! Oh and of course please remember to tell me what you think of my overactive imagination. 


	2. Parental Guidance

**Disclaimer: **_Merely a work of fandom._

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**The Proverbial Can of Worms**

_By tarot-flair_

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**Parental Guidance**

The four-year-old gurgled happily, his chubby fingers tugging insistently on his father's inky blue hair. Two spaces away, his twin sister played with her Barbie dolls with all the girlish charm of a proper lady. Athrun's heart swelled with parental pride and no small amount of masculine arrogance at having sired such beautiful children. Until he realized to his horror, that young Lenore was systemically undressing and snipping away at the doll dresses.

"Lenore! What are you doing!" He stared aghast, at the mutilated bits of cloth.

His daughter's bottom lip trembled and tears welled in her luminous green eyes. "But Daddy, they look better in pants…" A wounded sniff and Athrun knew the battle was lost.

Fortunately his years of studying military strategy had taught him when to retreat and recoup his losses. "Ah, don't cry, Daddy will get you new ones. Please promise not to," he stared briefly at the unrecognizable wreckage, "play with scissors anymore," he finished weakly.

The tears miraculously vanished and his beloved daughter proceeded to abandon the dolls for her Lego set and Athrun mentally patted himself on the back for having averted a potential disaster. Only to have another one come a-knocking. It seemed as if he was destined for a life of combat.

"Daddy! I want a Gundam like Uncle Kira!" His youngest son said, or rather roared, directly into his ear. Did he mention that his beautiful children came equipped with very strong lungs too? It was a desirable trait, he decided.

He frowned slightly; he really should not have brought them to see the Gundam collection at Lacus and Kira's house. "You're still too young to pilot one," he placated. Eventually he would teach them how to pilot a Gundam though, it was really a more stylish mode of transportation than the common car. Little Patrick looked set to argue, he could always tell: the familiar furrowing of his golden brows, the glint of stubbornness. He supposed it could not be helped; what with the extent of the mother's mule headedness, it was bound to be a dominant trait.

"But Daddy I'm already _four_!" The shrill shriek was nearing an unbearable pitch.

"Yes, yes but you need a license to pilot a Gundam! You have to be at least fourteen to sit for the test." He was a genius. Fourteen seemed about right, that was after all the first time he had sat in a cockpit too.

"_FOURTEEN!_" Very strong lungs indeed, he wondered whose genes, Cagalli's or his, was responsible for it.

Desperate to ward off the inevitable tantrum, he seized the first toy at hand –which happened to be a toy revolver- and handed it to his furious son. "How about you practice your aim first!" The tiny amount of hysteria in his voice was naturally a deliberate effort to mislead his son that Daddy was under his thumb. Athrun Zala, ace pilot and a reputable crack shot, could not possibly be scared of a four-year-old boy.

Although he wished he had not been quite so hasty in his choice of toys. The revolver was part of a set of guns Cagalli had given to Patrick for his fourth birthday and Athrun shuddered to remember what had transpired during the birthday party.

"_Patrick, here's your birthday present! How do you like it?"_

"_Wow, Mommy is that a bazooka? I love you!" _

_It seemed terribly unfair to Athrun that Cagalli had given their son such an unwholesome present and yet earn his love. _

"_I can't believe you gave him **GUNS**, Cagalli! What were you thinking of!"_

"_Oh, should I have given him Barbie dolls too like what you gave Lenore?" She had replied sweetly. "If you think all girls ought to play with dolls then naturally all boys ought to play with guns, no?" Obviously politics had taught Cagalli many things. _

"_That's beside the point! Guns are a bad influence and it's ladylike to play with dolls!" _

The couch had felt particularly lumpy that night and he suspected that it was no coincidence that he had woken up on the floor in the morning. Although he had to admit that the revolver was rather pretty and looked authentic; glimmering silver, it even came with a safety bolt and fake ammunition.

"Daddy! I don't want this old gun! Uncle Kira's Gundam has a _beam saber_!" Athrun prided himself on being a man of reason but _where could his son possibly have learned all these! _

His son's pudgy but surprisingly nimble fingers impatiently threw the safety bolt of the revolver, spun the cartridge and pointed it at a spot just slightly above Athrun's left ear. "See, Daddy, guns are easy!" And fired.

Athrun opened his mouth to deliver a harsh reprimand only to feel his jaw unhinge at the sound of a small explosion and a loud thud. He turned around to find bits of cracked plaster, the ruined painting on the floor and a _smoking hole in the wall. _

**Dear God, what exactly did I marry?**

His eyes alternated between staring at the smoking barrel of the gun his four-year-old son was holding and the smoking hole in the wall, two inches or less above his left ear. You know what they say about the adrenaline high from escaping a near death? THEY LIED.

"Honey, did I hear something?" His wonderful wife had the courtesy to inquire.

"I can't possibly think what you could have heard! Oh wait, could it be the gunshot fired from the **TOY** you gave our son!"

"Oh, that…"

"Yes, _that_. That birthday present you gave a four-year-old! What possessed you to give him a _real gun_!" If Athrun had known how much energy it took to get into such fits of hysterical rage, he might have been more accommodating towards Cagalli. In fact, if his surroundings did not look such a murky red, he might even have realized that his wife looked just the slightest bit contrite.

"Well… it's good to start from young isn't it?" She chirped brightly.

"HE ALMOST BLEW MY HEAD OFF!"

The proper reaction would have been to hurry to his side and inquire solicitously about his health, maybe even press a kiss to his forehead and most definitely to his ringing ear. But his wife had always defeated his calculations.

"Only four and he shows that much promise!" The traitorous wife clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, my lovely boy!"

"Athrun…"

"What," he growled in what he hoped was a suitably menacing tone.

"Where's Patrick?"

"He's right here…" He trailed off, eyeing the ominously empty space around him.

"There's no need to panic…" He said reassuringly, just as his other equally prodigious child piped up.

"Daddy! I want a Gundam like Patrick!"

He followed the direction of his daughter's finger, looked out of the window, and saw the very horrifying, familiar shape of his Justice Gundam soaring into the sky.

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**Author's Note: **An unfortunate product of too much caffeine, too little sleep and a severe lack of inspiration. I just figured that with parents like Cagalli and Athrun, _and_ their fancy Akatsuki and Infinite Justice, their children are bound to want to experiment. I would too, wouldn't you? Ah well, please be gentle - my feelings are fragile, especially when it concerns my sense of humour. 


End file.
